It's all over now

Again more to catch up in blog space, here is the email that I sent out on the evening of the day that Jen died.

I'm afraid it's bad news again from us. It's all over -- Jen died Tuesday morning July 21st around 5:45 am. The funeral is on Monday July 27th, 10am, at St Marks Anglican Church Forest Hill.

The cause of her death was liver failure due to secondary tumours from the breast cancer. This was much more rapid than any of us or her doctors thought even two weeks ago. We spent last week in southern NSW near Candelo with her family and Jen enjoyed seeing everyone. At the same time she was very ill, barely venturing outside, unable to eat very much, sleeping a lot and going between constipation and diarrhea. At the time she was juggling a schedule of medication, including the oral chemotherapy, pain relief (morphine derivatives), sleeping tablets etc. So we thought that her symptoms were mainly in response to the medication. However on Saturday we both noticed a faint yellow tinge in her skin colour and eyes, which can be a sign of a failing liver, and we were both worried.

On Sunday morning I packed the car,and Jen spent time again with everyone, and we set off for Melbourne to have medical appointments this week, leaving the boys enjoying time with their cousins on the farm. We were towing a small caravan borrowed from Jen's parents, so we stopped overnight in Lakes Entrance. On Monday morning the problems began - Jen seemed confused and unable to make decisions, falling asleep every couple of minutes. I eventually managed to get her ready to go about 11am, and she would manage brief moments of lucidity. At lunchtime she held herself together to have a two minute chat with Secundus on the mobile. Throughout the day as we travelled she became less coherent, and by the time we reached home she was barely conscious, responding to questions but not in a very coherent way. When asked how she was, she'd say "I'm fine". If hearing is the last sense to go, then I may have inflicted unnecessary suffering by playing an Abba compilation on the car stereo (though I can admit that we were both Abba fans, in a suitable ironic and retro fashion).

From home I took her to the Monash Medical Centre Emergency Department - this itself was testing, as she was unresponsive and couldn't stand or walk by the time we arrived. After an hour or two in emergency, the doctors had determined that her problems with all to do with liver failure, and none of them were fixable. So it was decided to transfer her to the palliative care unit there, McCulloch House, although in true hospital fashion this took about three hours to organise. By this stage she would occasionally respond to pain or loud noises. This stayed more or less true throughout the night, with tiny flashes of response. The nurse was very helpful in convincing me than Jen might not have long, so Jen's sister and her husband left Candelo about 1am to drive the boys back to Melbourne.

About 5.20am, as I lay dozing in a reclining chair in the corner of the room after a couple of hours' sleep, I woke a little to listen to her breathing. It was changing and becoming more shallow. The nurse came and explained that she was very close to the end. I stayed holding her hand until her breathing slowed right down and finally stopped around 5:45am. I remained there for quite a while before going out to make more phone calls. My mother and a close friend came in, with the boys arriving about 8:45am. They were of course devestated , each in their own way, and briefly went in to see Jen's body. Our minister came later. Jen's body is now with the funeral directors, Bethel, in Mitcham.

On the practical side. I've decided to have the funeral on Monday 27th July, 10am, at St Mark's Anglican Church in Forest Hill, 303 Canterbury Road, Box Hill (just east of Springvale Road, on the north side). There should be a notice in Thursday's Age. I'm still working out many details, and I'll be asking quite a few people for help.

I'm disappointed that we didn't have more time with Jen, and that we didn't understand the signs that she had was approaching the end until she was already losing consciousness. On the other hand I'm paradoxically grateful that she declined very rapidly, that she wasn't in significant pain, and that she wasn't conscious enough to even realise that she was dying.

Thanks again for the incredible support we've had from so many friends and family over the ten months of Jen's illness. I'm sure I'll be needing you just as much as the boys and I adjust to life without Jen. At the moment I have Jen's parents staying with me, so I have good practical support at home.